


so deep

by abusedtrademarkemoji



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abusedtrademarkemoji/pseuds/abusedtrademarkemoji
Summary: mj is having a very good and very bad day, courtesy of peter parker--residential clumsy, hunky loser.





	so deep

**Author's Note:**

> definitely inspired by mariah carey's "fantasy" which is a fucking BOP. also not beta'd so all mistakes are my own :)))) please point them out!

MJ’s not drooling, not really, no. In fact, she thinks she’s a bit dehydrated at the moment because of Peter. Michelle’s noticed how within the span of three months, his uniform gym shorts have potentially shrank. That or the muscles of his lower body have near doubled in size and asset. She’s leaning toward the latter of the two because she can’t recall his arms ever being so toned either, and it’s not like Michelle hasn’t been paying attention. Being honest, Michelle prides herself a bit on her observation skills. Unabashedly, most of the semester’s afternoon block is spent watching him and Leeds workout together. Before, Michelle could not for the sake of God enjoy Phys Ed but lately she spends her mornings anticipating third period, if only to leer at Peter and how _cut_ he looks.

  
Her mind wanders back to when they met for the first time at AcaDec tryouts in freshman year and he looked so stale and plain that she couldn’t even remember his name until mid-October. Michelle really didn’t care for him at all. Flash forward to sophomore year and she begins noticing it all—how flaky he is with friends and practices, then how goddamn ripped he got, not to mention the Washington trip. Then quicker than she thought, it’s junior year, she’s captain of the team and her mom is constantly praising Michelle for handling all these new responsibilities, because she’s finally a young woman with needs and wants and goals in life. It sounds like the typical decree of a mother with an only child, but she can only focus on that one part when her mom recites her near-daily mantra. The part that goes “needs and wants” because, yeah, Michelle could probably name a few. So what if MJ zones out when her mom speaks exclusively in wandering bunny trails with paths that lead nowhere? What else is she supposed to do other than daydream about Peter’s ass and hands and thighs and wow?

  
Previously, she could simply admire his body and privately objectify him deep in her mind, but after her promotion Michelle is forced to really engage with him, and that means Peter also has a personality that tags along with his strapping and sinful body. Over time Michelle realized he actually has character, and eventually his quirks of desperation and high-strung nerves come off as charming to her, and maybe she begins to like hearing him and Ned argue about whether or not the Luke/Leia relationship was weird. Now MJ watches his face when he’s speaking, rather than watch the vein in his neck when he flexes or the puff of his chest between breaths. Worst of everything, she thinks the slight crookedness of his nose has become one of her favourite things about him and his dusting of freckles make MJ swoon to the moon and back. It doesn’t sound too bad at surface level, but the nose and freckle thing makes this fixation legitimate. MJ comes to like everything about Peter, imperfections and all.

  
Also, MJ is smart. In only two gym classes she has already discovered the exact pace to move during the warm up run. This pace is set so that her and Peter will always pass each other on opposing sides through the long lengths of the gymnasium rather than the short stretches that span too far apart for advantageous ogling.

  
There’s only one issue. Peter is smart too.

  
Not that Michelle didn’t already know this, but today she sees that he’s probably caught up to her game of strategy, because at the present he will look across Midtown’s dumb atom logo that’s obnoxiously spread on the centre of the court in a loud blue and a screaming yellow. He’s subtle about it at least, shyly matching her heated gaze. Yeah, okay, Michelle could easily look away and not be creepy, but the problem with that is she would lose out on a good 20 seconds of breath-taking glory.

  
But on the third lap he is obvious with intent. Peter looks right at Michelle, challenging her. So she eats off his silver spoon and laves in the attention he’s paying her, continuing to indulge in the beauty that is Peter Parker. He goes as far as quirking an eyebrow up at her in acknowledgement. Her favourite eyebrow too, the one with hairs that defy gravity and is cute as a button. Okay, now MJ is properly panting and it’s definitely not from her crawl of a run. Peter has a great power over her, she can admit that.

  
Fourth lap in, and it gets better—or worse, Michelle hasn’t quite decided yet. Anyway, Peter carries on with his little staring match, but he raises her one higher. Peter’s eyes lower, lingering on her lean legs. And he takes his time coming back up, absorbing everything, every feature. She already knows this weighted look is going to haunt her dreams for a good while. If she’s honest, Michelle feels a bit lightheaded because Peter gifts her with what could only be called a coy smile, except it’s still Peter and it’s really just an upward tilt of his pursed lips complete with eye crinkles and it’s sexy as all hell to Michelle regardless. Then, Ned kind of ruins it on the final lap, because he picks up on their little back and forth and loudly gasps “Peterohmygod,” and Michelle thinks she heard her name somewhere in what was supposed to be a whisper but is lost to the sounds of sneakers hitting the waxed floor anyway. Ned’s actions don’t take Michelle’s eyes off of Peter though, despite his elbow driving into his friend’s side in shock and anticipation, so she doesn’t miss his blush and the slight shake of his head to shift his view back to the runners in front of him. It’s official, Michelle could kill Ned. She hasn’t a single qualm against it now. Ned will die for this.

  
Class seems to continue to its usual accord, and Peter doesn’t pay her any mind at all, ending whatever it was that hardly began in the first place. Coach instructs them to set up a game of dodgeball as he slinks to lean against the wall of the folded in bleachers, whistle looped lazy and tucked in his jeans pocket. The game begins and finishes, and MJ sees flashes of colour and hears bells ringing.

  
After changing back into her regular clothes, she takes her time coming out of the girl’s locker room, in no rush to get to the library for her spare block. She’s used to being the last exiting the empty gym, but Peter makes his presence known when he calls out to her, “MJ, come here.”

She feels her nerves bubble out of her bloodstream, but plays it off as she strolls over. “Don’t you have chem this block?”

  
“Don’t care,” and he’s pulling her elbow to reel her in closer. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  
Michelle’s stomach wrings out and every sense of hers must have exhausted from overstimulation. She can only nod in response.

  
“Are you gonna tell me what that all was about? The teasing?”

  
“I wasn’t teasing you, Peter.”

  
“Sure felt like it.” He turns to press her against the bleachers, and her neck warms under his hot stare. “What are you thinking about now? What are you going to do next, hmm?”

  
Here, Michelle is the one who feels toyed with. Peter’s hand lowers from her elbow to fall upon her waist, and despite Michelle’s height, he leans over her and his gaze drifts down to her lips. Her reply stutters out of her “What do you want me to do?”

  
“I could think of a few things, actually.” His lips move forward and skim her cheek, nearing her pouted lips. “Is this okay?” MJ is able to merely pull him tighter in return, so Peter takes her lips between his own and his other hand tucks up under her shirt and pinches softly at her hip. Her breath expels when he moves his mouth to work on her jawline, then her ear as it tempts and dips around her deftly.

  
“Peter, someone’s going to see us,” she warns, but her body defies her as she tugs him closer and attempts to rid him of his hoodie, hands spanning his wide shoulders.

  
“Good, I want them to.”

  
Michelle is fully aware that she is two kisses away from passing out from shock and exertion. All she can process is how Peter is so wildly good at this, and how out of character he is for being so confident. Instead of answering these questions, she lets herself focus on the matter at hand, where Peter latches back onto her lips to distract her from him tugging off her denim jacket, unbuttoning her jeans. Her arms circle around his neck and he pulls her to balance around his waist, letting her weight fall on him and the bleachers with her legs separated and capturing him. She’s panting into his hair as he turns to lave across her collarbones and her head is filled with hazy air, she can’t even think straight. “Michelle, fuck, you can’t keep doing that. Can’t just watch me like that, made me feel so hot.” At that admission, she tips his head back to return his lips to her, just so she could own them once again. Finally, he’s the vulnerable one.

  
To top it off, she whispers against his lips how she thinks about him all the time, how she loves the way his ass looks in those shorts, how much she wants him. “MJ, let me. Please,” he whines, taking control again when his right hand lays against her crotch, over her unzipped jeans. Michelle looks him in his eyes, blown out pupils reflecting her own. She holds his hand, and leads it inside her dark underwear, lets him feel how hot she is there, the wetness that’s already accumulated there because of him. His eyes squeeze shut at the discovery but he still manages to rub lightly at her clit.

  
He moves his hand in light circles, like he’s done this to her many times before. Peter dips his finger lower, down into where she’s seeping into her panties. He inhales in surprise, he had no idea the influence he had over her, then he surges forward to let her dampness coat his fingers, giving a slickness to work her through with. His thumb applies some pressure back onto to her clit, just enough to wake her up a bit and keep her guessing.

  
“Peter,” she whines, claws at his chest. He triumphs at her desperation and wonders when the next time he’ll get to see her like this again. Lost in his own future fantasies of her, he takes his time to nip at her neck, to truly worship Michelle. She watches him over her lower lash line, neck thrown back in pleasure. In order to keep her mind from blending to mush, she chooses to focus on that neck vein again, as it pulses from his blood sinking down from his head and to where his jeans are getting even tighter. “Peter, move. I need you to move.”

  
He relents and swirls his fingers in her wetness again, slips a digit in her to test it. Her ass clenches at the movement but it doesn’t feel too foreign. Actually, it feels incredibly natural, enough so that he easily allows for a second to enter along with the first, and then tapers them in and out, curling slightly. His thumb never gives up, it makes clean and suave strokes on her clit, rubbing it over. Michelle guides his lips back to hers, lets her delicate moans get eaten up by his tongue. Peter increases the speed at which he drives his fingers inside her, tries to zero in on that one elusive spot. He wants to know the effect he has on her, an answer to all the questions that had been swimming in his mind since he met her eyes just an hour before. He feels hot all over again when he thinks about how deeply she saw him, like she knew exactly what was hiding beneath his uniform.

  
“Em,” but she ignores him, continues to bite at his lips and lick into his mouth. “MJ,” he commends “I wanna see your eyes, open your eyes.” At that, the same pair of eyes that had followed him for laps today blinks open, as if she were to wake in his arms this way, with him inside her like he belonged. Peter’s abs contract when he sees how she looks at him so thoroughly he feels both rested and strung up all at once. Even under the ugly fluorescent lights of the gymnasium, she manages to remain poised of beauty, with the lighting reflecting the glow of her sweat that deepens her skin.

  
Michelle encourages him to add a third finger to his repertoire and she feels closer to climax than ever before. Her hips rotate and rock up into his hand and she lavishes at how his arms look holding her up, the bicep of his right arm while he flexes to gun inside her. At last, he curls right into her g-spot and her haziness runs clear when he brings her to orgasm. Her body shakes against him and her left hand swings up to grasp at the ledge of the bleachers for support. Peter keeps her grounded as she grinds away until he slows his hand and then it’s all over. He drops her off himself and her butt hits the cold linoleum floor.

  
“Peter!” she shouts as her upper body rises. The same cheap lights flash into view as she groans from the pain. “Why am I still in my gym strip?” she questions when she looks down to notice the tacky blue of cotton.

  
Ned is kneeling beside her and rushes an explanation. “Peter threw a dodgeball and hit you in the face and knocked you out. Maybe Peter should realize his _power_ needs to be under control.” A weighted look is exchanged between Ned and Peter, and Peter at least has the decency to be embarrassed and turn away.

  
“Are you okay, Michelle?” he says quietly.

  
“Yeah, something like that.”

  
“You sounded really mad. Even in your sleep you kept saying ‘Peter, Peter’ and groaning” Ned mocks and has nerve enough to laugh in obliviousness. “He must haunt you even in your dreams, huh?”

  
“I guess you could say that,” she laments, and takes a final glance at a blushing Peter before she pulls the collar of her t-shirt up over her warming face in embarrassment and lets the fabric cover her eyes and tangle her hair. What she misses is that when the action forces her shirt to reveal the v of her slender hips, Peter can’t look away from the span of her brown skin. At least Ned sees the way Peter admires her, and rolls his eyes at the turn of events.

**Author's Note:**

> you probably are annoyed by that fourth grader's use of an ex machina but thanks for reading my first fic! hopefully will see you again soon


End file.
